


Like a Virgin

by hopingforaword



Series: A More Progressive World, Of Course [1]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Bad Decisions, F/M, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lots of sex whoops, M/M, Melchior and Hanschen both consider themselves to have "two virginities", Melchior is a Dumbass, Mild Pregnancy Scare, One Night Stands, Porn With Plot, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sweet, Underage Drinking, Unsafe Sex, also i love them both so why not, at some points, excerpts from have a good weekend and valentine's day, relationship, so they get two chapters, well not really but they're worried about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7878751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopingforaword/pseuds/hopingforaword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to All the Answers and it's all about "virginity"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hänschen I

**Author's Note:**

> uh basically I was working on Have a Good Weekend and realized I talked about Melchritz's first time together and y'all didn't get to actually read it so now I'm giving y'all (and myself) the stories of all the first times that happen before All the Answers. That means Hänschen twice (once with a girl and once with a guy), Melchior twice, Martha, and Moritz. Fun fact! Either Hänschen or Melchior is in each chapter because I'm trash for the two of them specifically. At the beginning of each chapter it'll be specified where the sex starts/ends if you just want to read set up/aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content starts with "The door's locked, yeah?" and ends at "Alex groaned and sat up."

It was a particularly hot day for June, so Hänschen had invited his friends over for a swim after school. Melchior, Otto, and Georg had all loved the idea, and Moritz had agreed as soon as he knew Melchior was coming, but Ernst had taken some convincing. Ernst, his beautiful best friend, his best friend who came swimming all the time, had taken the most convincing of all his friends. He and Ernst had not so much been fighting, as they had had a thick tension growing between them. If Hänschen was right, it had started when he had shown up at Ernst’s window one night and told him about hooking up with Albert Munsch, a junior Hänschen and Ernst had agreed a long time ago was very hot. Ernst had seemed fine until Hänschen had started describing what it was like to give a handjob, and even then there had only been a weird shift in his face. Hänschen knew it had gotten worse when he'd started blowing the senior quarterback, but he wasn't going to bring up the tension with Ernst. Of all their friends, Ernst was the only one who knew about all of Hänschen's hookups, and as kind and accepting as he seemed, Hänschen was afraid that Ernst thought the same thing all the juniors and seniors thought of him. It didn't bother Hänschen that the people he wanted to hook up with thought he was an easy little kid, just some slutty eighth grader, but if his best friend thought that of him? Hänschen wouldn't be able to take it. 

The boys chattered as they walked into Hänschen’s house, putting their stuff down in his bedroom and changing into swim trunks before racing into the backyard. Melchior and Moritz were joking around about something Moritz said in class, Georg and Otto were threatening to throw each other into the pool, Hänschen was opening the pool and Ernst was just standing there. Hänschen worried that he had done something wrong. Ernst hadn’t laughed or spoken nearly as much as he usually did, but Hänschen didn’t know how to talk about his feelings, so he settled for opening the pool and staring at Ernst. 

As soon as the pool was open, Otto pushed Georg in and Melchior jumped in, closely followed by Moritz. Otto jumped in as Hänschen and Ernst walked over to the pool.

“C’mon Ernst!” Moritz called from the pool, “The water’s nice.”

“The water’s always nice here,” Ernst mumbled, and Hänschen smiled at him. Watching Ernst steel himself to jump in, Hänschen couldn’t help but notice that Ernst’s swim shorts were from last season and just a little too tight in all the right places. He jumped into the deep end before his friends noticed that the blood in his veins was quickly pumping south. When he resurfaced he was met with whoops and a splash right behind him. He turned around and almost collided with Ernst.

“Hey dude.”

“Hey.”

There was a long minute and then Melchior shouted, “Marco!” and Ernst and Hänschen had no choice but to separate as everyone called back, “Polo.”

 

The boys spent two hours swimming at Hänschen’s house, finally getting out of the pool to dry off on the hot concrete before they had to go home. Hänschen sat on his favorite pool chair, covertly staring over at Ernst as the brunette talked to Moritz. Eighth grade had been kind to all of them; Hänschen and Melchior had gotten taller, Moritz was less deathly skinny, Otto’s braces came off, Georg’s mom let him get contacts, and Ernst just looked… older. Better. Hänschen had just started thinking about how nice it would be to just go swimming with Ernst one night this summer, maybe even go skinny-dipping if the other boy was up for it, when the door to the backyard opened and his father cleared his throat. All six boys turned around, Hänschen’s heart sinking when he saw who was there.

“Time to head home boys,” Mr. Rilow said genially.

All of them sighed, and the five who didn’t live there got up and walked into the house, thanking Hänschen and Mr. Rilow as they headed up to get their bags and clothes. Mr. Rilow was staring at Ernst, who squeaked out a, “Thanks, Mr. Rilow,” as he passed into the house. Then Mr. Rilow fixed his glare on Hänschen, who groaned and stood up. Sometimes there’s a moment you know you did something, and whatever you did you fucked yourself over, and Hänschen knew that this was his moment. (At least, for this week. Hänschen seemed to have these moments all the time.) He slowly made his way into the house, standing in the living room until his father joined him, presumably after all his friends had left.

“We were just swimming! What the hell Dad?”

“You were staring at that Robel boy.”

“His name is Ernst, and he’s my best friend.”

Mr. Rilow scoffed. “Boys don’t have best friends. That’s a girl thing.”

“A girl thing? Ernst knows more about me than anyone else and I care about him more than  _ anyone _ else.” Hänschen thought from the look on his father’s face that he understood that “anyone” applied to family too.

“Knock it off Hänschen. You sound gay.”

“What if I am?” Hänschen threw the words in a shout. “What if I like boys? Like touching them, and kissing them, and holding their hands. What are you going to do about it?”

The silence was heavy. Then, “Don't even joke about that Hänschen. It's not funny. Go to your room. You're grounded.”

Hänschen went to his room, locked the door and quickly changed into his party clothes, a white tank top and black shorts that were just a little too tight. He climbed out the back window.  _ After all this time, he still thinks he can tell me what to do.  _ Hänschen laughed as he lowered himself down the outside of his house.

 

Flirting with boys at the party felt like an even bigger fuck you than sneaking out. Hänschen wasn’t gay. He’d known since the sixth grade that he liked girls and boys, and his friends had been cool with it, especially Melchior who had said, “No way! Me too dude.” But Hänschen had never told his father. Sure his father noticed all the hickeys that adorned Hänschen’s neck and chest when he came home from a night out, but he never asked questions, so Hänschen never had to give answers. Usually Hänschen flirted somewhat passively. If an older guy (or girl, but older girls expressed interest in Hänschen more rarely) wanted something from him, they’d flirt and whisper and Hänschen would nod eagerly. That night was different. Hänschen was actively looking for someone, anyone, who could make him forget for just a little while.

Hänschen drank a little from his beer and turned around, bumping into a senior whose drink sloshed onto himself and Hänschen. “Sorry Hänschen!” the senior laughed, “Here, let me get that for you.” He started rubbing Hänschen’s shirt before he laughed. “I’m just making it worse, aren’t I? I’m Alex by the way.”

“It’s fine Alex,” Hänschen smiled, “Really.”

“You sure dude? I could try to clean it or something.”

“I don’t need you to clean my shirt. Though,” a smirk crawled onto Hänschen’s face, “if you want to make it up to me another way, I have some ideas.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Hänschen nodded and said, “We should go somewhere more private.”

Alex eagerly led Hänschen through the house, pulling him into a dark bedroom. Both boys ripped off their alcohol-soaked shirts and pulled each other in, lips colliding in a passionate mess of a kiss, hands flying into hair and flitting across warm skin. Time floated away as Alex pushed into Hänschen’s mouth and Hänschen pushed back, happy for this one thing that he always understood.

Hänschen thought suddenly about what would happen when he left. He would run home, pass his house, run to the back of Ernst's and scale the house before knocking quietly on his best friend’s window. Ernst always slept in a t shirt and his boxers, but the shirt was usually so soaked in sweat that Hänschen could see through it. For as little as he thought of himself, Ernst really was beautiful. Imagining his best friend standing in his window, blushing furiously as Hänschen described various events of various nights, Hänschen was suddenly painfully aware of his arousal. He threw himself into the moment, the moment where a very hot senior was slowly divesting him of clothing, and tried not to think about what getting a boner from thinking about his best friend meant. He could always deal with that later (or never).

Hänschen let Alex push his shorts down before he pulled back and whispered, “The door’s locked, yeah?”

Alex reached behind him and clicked it shut. “It is now.” He pulled Hänschen back into him, hips and lips meeting. Hänschen started fiddling with Alex’s shorts and pushed them down before dropping to his knees. “Fuck you’re hot.” Hänschen pushed down Alex’s boxers and wrapped his mouth around the other boy’s erection, eliciting a loud groan from the senior. “Shit, you’re good.” Hänschen hummed in acknowledgement of the praise, moving further up his shaft. A few minutes later, Alex pulled him off gently. 

“What?” Hänschen was genuinely scared he had done something wrong. Alex was really hot and he didn’t want to screw things up with him.

“I thought I’d give you the choice of sucking me off or being fucked in the ass.”

Hänschen looked at him, wide eyed, trying to figure out if Alex was lying. When he deduced that he probably wasn’t, Hänschen nodded. “Uh, yeah. The second one. For sure.”

“Great,” Alex said, “Bed, then, yeah?”

In answer, Hänschen walked over to the bed, kicking his shorts off as he went. Alex followed, removing his shorts and his boxers before he reached Hänschen, and then gently pulled down Hänschen’s boxers. He straddled Hänschen before reaching to the floor, pulling lube and a condom out of the back of his jeans.

“Hold this,” he said, handing the condom to Hänschen before coating his fingers with lube and moving down the bed to stretch Hänschen.

A shiver of discomfort ran up Hänschen’s spine as he felt one of Alex’s fingers push in, but he tried to relax. He wanted to do this and hated the waiting, so he figured the more he relaxed the quicker it would all start. 

Sooner than Hänschen expected, Alex sat up and said, “Open it.” Hänschen opened the condom and handed it to Alex, who rolled it on before gently sliding into Hänschen. Hänschen’s face screwed up and his teeth clenched and Alex whispered, “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Hänschen nodded, breathing through the discomfort. A long two minutes later he breathed, “I’m ready,” and Alex began rocking his hips. 

Hänschen felt heavenly. Sure, the stretch had been painful, but this was amazing. His head fell backward as his torso picked up off the mattress in an arch when Alex grazed his prostate. Even as Hänschen reflected how much better bottoming was than he had been expecting, he imagined how amazing topping would be. Maybe even topping Ernst.

Hänschen almost screamed and took everything he had not to come at the thought of his best friend naked and squealing below him. He refocused, trying to think about Alex, who was older and hotter (maybe). But more importantly, he was interested. Ernst was definitely not.

“Fuck, Hänschen,” Alex groaned, “You’re so… tight... and...  amazing.” His hips started slamming in faster and Hänschen choked back his groans, not wanting anyone else to hear, and at the same time wanting everyone to know. He wanted to, and now he had so it wouldn’t be that “awkward first time.” He wanted–

Hänschen’s brain short-circuited as Alex wrapped a hand around his cock and thoughts stopped existing. All that existed was him and Alex and Alex’s cock in his ass and Alex’s hand around his cock and Hänschen tried to breathe as he came all over Alex’s hand. Alex’s thrusts got somehow faster as he got closer and closer and he whispered, “Fuck, Hänschen,” as he came.

Hänschen felt boneless as Alex pulled out and laid down next to him. He couldn’t wait to tell Ernst, and he couldn’t wait to do this again with someone else, and couldn’t wait for all the seniors to know that  _ this _ was what Hänschen really wanted.

Alex groaned and sat up. “I gotta go talk to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Hänschen spluttered.

“Yeah… She’s not going to be happy but I can’t lie to her. Anyway, thanks Hänschen.” Alex got redressed and left. Hänschen made a mental note to check that the next person he flirted with was single, and that was the first question he asked a cute sophomore when he got back into the party.


	2. Martha/Hänschen II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martha has some issues related to her abuse that she’s still coping with but not managing well so if that concerns you there’s a description in the endnotes for this chapter.
> 
> Okay this chapter actually has like progression of foreplay *gasp* so it really depends on what you define as sexual/explicit content but I guess if I didn't want to read sex I'd skip from, "You know, if you want to, " to, "You didn't have to."

“What’s up Martha?” Hänschen’s usually beautiful voice sounded tinny through her house phone.

“Can I come over and hang out? My mom and I are fighting–”

“Sure.” The line clicked, and Martha put the phone back in its base. She had a plan for how this visit to Hänschen would go, but she wasn’t quite sure how to get there. 

It was cold outside, snow on the pavement ankle deep, but she still put shorts on under her snowpants and a tank top under her jacket. She pushed through the snow, trying not to think about what her mother or the girls would say if they knew what she wanted. 

As Martha walked to Hänschen’s house, she thought about everything she knew about him. Like the rest of their friends, she and Hänschen had known each other since they were little kids, but they'd only grown close over the past three and a half months. The beginning of freshman year had meant that suddenly everyone knew what Hänschen had been doing all summer (or rather, who). Plenty of people said nasty things about him, but many people, including a lot of the seniors, were so interested in getting with Hänschen that they didn't talk badly about him. Even so, as Hänschen's body seemed to become more of a commodity, Hänschen closed off. If Martha could relate to anything, it was that. 

Hänschen didn't know about Martha’s dad per se, but he knew that her parents were divorced because of her dad’s treatment of Martha and her mother. Hänschen was also the only one who knew about the fights Martha was having with her mom. She wasn't quite sure how they started talking, only that she was glad they did. It made this part less awkward. 

Martha reached Hänschen's front door and knocked once. He opened the door immediately and silently ushered Martha up to his room. 

Hänschen had no idea why Martha was there, but he didn't really mind. Martha was quiet and kind, and Hänschen could understand just needing to get out of the house away from parents. No one knew it, but that was part of the reason he spent so many late nights in other people’s rooms. The other part was of course how much he enjoyed hooking up with people. 

He shut the door and locked it, turning to face Martha, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of his room. 

“Is your family around?” she asked quietly. 

Hänschen shook his head. “My mom and dad took Thea ice skating.”

“Why didn't you go?”

“Grounded for… I'm not actually sure what for. I think my dad might've just not wanted to look at me.” He laughed humorlessly. “What are you and your mom fighting about?”

“It's stupid really,” Martha says, beginning to take off her snow boots as if she just remembered she was wearing them. “She thinks my clothes are attracting the wrong kind of attention.” Hänschen nodded as Martha removed her snow clothes to reveal her shorts and tank top. All of the girls Hänschen was friends with (including his sister, but he'd never admit it) were beautiful, but where most of them were just starting the part of puberty that made girls look like women, Martha had already almost finished. She had an hourglass figure, her wide hips and large breasts contrasting her narrower waist. Hänschen cleared his throat and looked away, barely having realized he had been staring. 

“So,” Hänschen said, lying down on his bed and motioning for Martha to sit next to him. She did, sitting straight as a rod while he laid down. “Why are you here?”

“I want to have sex with you.” Martha was staring at the wall, her jaw clenched, and Hänschen could almost believe he had imagined it if Martha hadn't flushed slightly. 

“Really?”

Martha nodded, jaw still clenched. 

“Okay,” Hänschen blinked, still not sure if this was all real, “Uh, yeah, okay. Now?”

Martha shrugged. 

“Okay. Let me just—” Hänschen stood up and walked over to his closet, rifling through his closet and finally emerging with three condoms and a bottle of lube. He put the supplies on his bedside table and sat back down. “I've never actually done this with a girl. I think you're not supposed to need lube with girls but better safe than sorry, right? Are you on birth control?”

Martha nodded again. It had been her doctor’s idea, and her mom had been somewhat opposed, but the benefits far outweighed any possible detriments in her mind. And now it was coming in handy. 

“Are you going to talk again?” Hänschen asked, an edge of panic in his voice. 

“Yeah, sorry. I still can't quite believe this is happening.”

“It's okay. I just wanted to make sure you weren't having an anxiety attack or something,” Hänschen said, turning to face Martha. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Martha looked at him, so much care in his green eyes, but also so much want, want that she could feel was reflected in her own hazel eyes. “Yes,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him. 

Hänschen kissed back, still a little confused but more than willing if Martha really wanted him. He leaned back a little and she followed him. As best as he could, Hänschen maneuvered Martha onto his lap without breaking contact with her mouth. She was a phenomenal kisser, finding all the spots in his mouth that sent shivers through his body and made him want to gasp. She leaned back a little as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her forehead against his. “This is so weird,” she whispered, slightly breathless. “I've never kissed anyone else and now I'm going to have sex with you.”

“You don't have to,” Hänschen assured her, “We can just make out if you want to.”

“No,” Martha said, “I've been imagining this for weeks. I want to and you're beautiful. I want it to be you Hänschen.” She didn't say that she was afraid he would just leave her alone if she didn't go through with this, that she would again be left with just the girls if she didn't have sex with him. She wanted to, and she thought that was the most important thing. 

“Then we can. You're beautiful too Martha. You're kind of the hottest girl in the grade.”

“Kind of?” Martha asked, sitting back and raising an eyebrow. 

“Definitely,” Hänschen said, pulling Martha back in so their lips were millimeters apart. “And I want to.” He pushed his lips onto hers and Martha kissed back with a passion that he had never seen her have for anything. He tried to lay down and she moved so he could. Hänschen smiled up at her and said, “How’d I get so lucky?”

Martha wasn't sure where it was coming from, but she was glad Hänschen was being so kind. Hänschen was so much nicer than  _ he _ had been. Besides, this gentle but passionate part hadn't existed with  _ him _ . It had just been right to it. “How'd  _ I  _ get so lucky?” she asked back, trailing kisses down Hänschen's neck until she reached the neck of the sweater he was still wearing. “Can I—?”

Instead of answering, Hänschen pulled the sweater over his head and threw it across the room. Martha moved back down immediately, sucking a hickey that could easily be hidden under clothing, but she knew Hänschen would display it. She loved the thought of people being jealous of whoever gave him the mark—her! Martha still couldn't believe she was hooking up with the legendary, gorgeous Hänschen Rilow. 

Martha's skin was warm under Hänschen’s palms. Her neck, her shoulders, her arms, there was even heat radiating through her tank top. With boys, Hänschen would usually just rip off their shirts, but he wanted to be delicate with Martha. Not just because he considered it his second virginity, but because he cared about Martha as a person, and didn't want to make their friendship awkward by messing this up somehow. And, as far as he knew, Martha was a virgin, so he wanted to give her a first time she enjoyed. Let it never be said that Hänschen Rilow didn't care about people. 

Martha felt warm fingers on the tiny space between her tank top and her shorts. “You can–you can take my shirt off. You know, if you want.”

Hänschen smiled kindly and said, “I think we should be even, what do you think?” Martha nodded, so Hänschen gently took her tank top off her before he guided her hands to the bottom of his shirt. She tentatively took his off, running her pinkies along his skin as she did. They both smiled at each other topless, Martha flushing slightly. Hänschen gazed at her, his eyes catching more than once on the upper part of her chest. Martha crossed her arms, obscuring his view a little. 

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because,” Hänschen said soothingly, rubbing her arms to try to get her to uncross them, “you are beautiful and,” he pulled her a little closer so he could whisper, “you have the most amazing breasts I've ever seen.” Martha flushed again, but smiled and uncrossed her arms. Hänschen didn't feel like it was necessary to admit that he hadn't actually seen that many breasts. It would be a much greater compliment if he said the same thing about someone's penis, but none of that was necessary to say when Martha was smiling so widely. 

“You can touch them,” Martha said, addressing Hänschen's navel rather than his eyes. “You know, if you want.” 

He smiled at her, slowly sliding his hands from her waist up her torso, caressing the skin and being as gentle as possible. His hands reached the bottom of her bra, and his fingers slid gently across her breasts, his thumbs resting on her warm skin and his other eight fingers on the lacy red cups of her bra. “Is this okay?” Martha nodded. Hänschen squeezed a little, not hard but not soft, and Martha gasped in shock. “Okay?” Martha surged forward to capture his lips again, pushing her tongue into Hänschen's mouth after a few seconds. “Would you mind flipping?” Hänschen whispered between kisses. 

“What?”

“Like so I'm on top,” he clarified and Martha nodded. He turned them so Martha's legs were still wrapped around him but he hovered above her. “Hi again.”

“Hi,” Martha giggled. “How are you?”

“Pretty good. I'm hooking up with this really hot girl right now, so I'm living well. How about you?”

“What a weird coincidence! I'm hooking up with this really hot guy,” she gasped as Hänschen began to suck a hickey into her neck, “with an absolutely sinful mouth, so I'm doing well.” 

Hänschen laughed into her neck. “Seems like we’re both doing well.” 

Martha opened her mouth to respond when Hänschen pushed her breasts in circles, making her moan loudly before she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”

“Don't be,” Hänschen whispered into her collarbone, continuing his descent down her torso. “That was an incredibly sexy noise, especially if it was meant as a, ‘Do that again.’”

“It absolutely was.” Hänschen rolled her breasts again, causing Martha to produce another gorgeous moan. Looking at her, her head tipped back, mouth open and moaning, Hänschen was so grateful she'd asked him. He continued kissing down her torso until he reached the lacy edge of one of the cups of her bra. 

“I have a dilemma.”

“Oh?”

“I want to kiss your breasts, and yet there seems to be another layer of fabric in between us.”

“Easily fixed,” Martha said, reaching around her back. 

“Allow me,” Hänschen said, glad he had a sister as he reached to unclip Martha’s bra. More than once, though neither of them would ever tell anyone, Thea had gotten stuck in her training bra and needed Hänschen to help her get unstuck. He gently pulled the red lacy silk off of her and dropped it off the edge of the bed before looking at her again. “Shit.”

“What? See something you like?” Martha said, wiggling her shoulders in a way that was sexier than it should have been. 

“Two somethings,” Hänschen said, leaning down to pepper kisses across her chest. Gently, he licked around the edge of one of Martha's nipples, tracing a finger over the other, before he sucked it into his mouth. Martha gasped pleasantly, tangling fingers into Hänschen’s blonde hair. 

“Fuck,” Martha whispered, “Your mouth is so illegal.”

“Glad you think so,” Hänschen said, kissing his way back to Martha’s mouth, “because I think all of you should be illegal.” He tried to say something else, but Martha sucked on his tongue in a way that was more conducive to a moan than speaking coherently. Martha ran fingers delicately up Hänschen’s spine while her other hand tugged his hair and his hips jerked forward involuntarily. “Sorry,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“It’s okay,” she said, “And I’d be receptive to pants being removed if you were interested.”

“You know what the problem with taking my pants off is?” Hänschen said, lips returning to Martha’s chest and moving down towards her belly button. “I’d have to get off you for more time than I’d like.”

“Well, I can help you take them off,” Martha whispered. Hänschen stood up, Martha following him to his feet. She leaned up to kiss him as she played with the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down and dropping to her knees with them.

“Fuck,” Hänschen whispered, “Martha you don’t have to–” His words were cut off by a sharp intake of breath as Martha pulled him out of his boxers and sucked him into her mouth. Martha was not the first girl to give him a blow job, let alone the first person, but he couldn’t remember anyone’s mouth ever feeling this good. She seemed to know exactly how he wanted it, without him having to say anything. He felt warmth pooling in his stomach, and looked down to see Martha, pupils wide and staring up at him as she pushed her mouth back onto his cock. Never in his life had Hänschen been blessed with such a beautiful, debauched picture and he almost screamed at the sight of it. “Martha.”

“Hmmm?”

“Stand up please.” 

She stood up slowly, meeting Hänschen’s eyes with a look of worry painted across her face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! That was so amazing. More amazing than anyone. I just have better plans for where I want to be when this finishes.” He grinned, and she grinned back. “But first, we have to take your pants off.” He pushed his cock back into his boxers, slowly undoing the button and zipper of Martha’s shorts and pushing them down. They both stepped out of their pants, staring at each other in just their underwear for a second before they leaned back into each other, kissing slowly, hands roving over each other’s exposed skin. “You have an amazing body Martha,” Hänschen said, touching each part of her body as he said it, “Gorgeous face, beautiful arms, perfect breasts, amazing hips, wonderful ass.”

“You’re just saying that,” Martha said into his neck. “You don’t have to compliment me unnecessarily Hänsi. I already want to sleep with you.”

“Martha,” he said firmly, “You are amazing and kind and so gorgeous and sexy. Okay?” 

She smiled, before pushing him back onto his mattress and straddling his hips. “What about you?” she said, grinning mischievously as she started to kiss his body again. “Face of a Greek statue, collarbones for days, toned but not too muscly, and,” she moved up to whisper in his ear, “your dick is amazing.” Hänschen felt his cock twitch at the compliment but before he could say anything Martha was pinning him to the mattress with her mouth and grinding her hips against his. 

“Please, shit Martha, please,” he gasped out.

“Please what?”

“Please let’s have sex now.”

Martha grinned. “Okay.”

Hänschen flipped them over so he was on top again, shedding his boxers before pulling Martha’s lacy panties down her legs and throwing them off the bed. Martha reached over to the bedside and grabbed one of the condoms, opening the wrapper before handing it to Hänschen. He took it, rolling it on before taking a moment to just admire Martha. 

“Well?” Martha asked. “Are we or aren’t we in the middle of something?”

“Hush,” Hänschen said. He leaned down to give Martha a quick kiss before he started to push into her. Martha gasped hard, eyes closing and eyebrows furrowing. “Are you alright?” Hänschen asked, hips stilling as he panicked. 

“Fine,” Martha said through gritted teeth, eyes still closed tight. “Just… slow… hurts a little.”

“Okay. We can always stop—”

“I know! Don't… just… keep going but like…”

“Slow?” Hänschen asked teasingly. 

Martha groaned, a mix of pleasure and annoyance. Hänschen leaned forward, kissing Martha gently as he pushed the rest of the way in. She wrapped her hands around his head, pulling him closer, pushing the kiss deeper as he rolled his hips gently. They both gasped and Martha said, “Do you want to go faster?”

“A bit, yeah,” Hänschen admitted. 

“Who’s stopping you?” Martha whispered playfully. Hänschen raised his eyebrows slightly and Martha nodded. Almost immediately, Hänschen started snapping his hips forward, and both of their pants and gasps filled the room. 

“Shit Martha,” Hänschen whispered, “Holy shit oh my God you're so hot holy…”

Martha leaned up and kissed him again. “Oh Hänschen,” she half-whispered, half-groaned, “Fuck this is… fuck.”

“Martha, I'm gonna…” Martha nodded as Hänschen groaned and came. Slowly, he pulled out and collapsed next to Martha, wrapping the condom in a tissue and throwing it onto the floor. After he caught his breath, Hänschen sat up and looked at Martha fondly before straddling her legs. “Now, it's your turn.”

“What do you…?” Martha was cut off as Hänschen trailed light kisses down her abdomen, gently rubbing her thigh. He gently pushed her legs apart and looked up at her. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, what are you doing?” 

Hänschen’s hand moved slowly up, one finger searching for something. Hänschen knew he'd found Martha’s clitoris from her sharp intake of breath. “Okay?”

“Mmm,” Martha whispered, “Don't stop.”

Hänschen smiled, pressing a kiss to Martha’s chest before moving back on the mattress and leaning down toward Martha. He rubbed his finger in slow circles, listening to Martha’s quiet moans and rapidly increasing breaths. Hänschen pulled his hand off, and Martha made an indignant squeak at the loss. Hänschen smirked at the noise before putting his tongue where his finger had been seconds before. Martha’s back arched as Hänschen’s fingers slipped into her and his tongue made delicate circles. 

“Fuck, Hänschen,” Martha whispered through breathy exhales. She tangled one of her hands in his silly blonde hair and grabbed the sheets with the other. “Fuck!” she shouted, back arching, before she collapsed down, breathing heavily and skin flushing red. Hänschen sat up tentatively, watching Martha come back to herself. 

When she finally was breathing normally, Martha looked at Hänschen. “You didn't have to.” 

He shrugged, wiping his fingers on his sheets. “I wanted to. It was exciting.”

“You liked it?” Martha was sitting up, leaning on her forearms. 

“You liked sucking me, right?” Martha nodded. “Same idea.” He laid down on the mattress, sweat-covered back pressing against the sheets. Martha looked apprehensive for a second, before lying down, her head resting on Hänschen’s chest. Hänschen wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

Eventually, Martha said, “I should probably go home.” Hänschen nodded, and they both stood up to get dressed. Martha piled back into her snow clothes, and Hänschen slipped his boxers and t shirt back on. They walked silently down to Hänschen's front door, and Martha's hand was on the door knob when she turned around. “I don't want to go home.”

“And I don't want you to leave,” Hänschen admitted. 

Martha leaned against the door, trying to be as seductive as possible while wearing snow clothes. “What would we do if I stayed?”

“Well I'm hungry so first I'd make shitty spaghetti.” Martha laughed and Hänschen cracked a smile before continuing. “Then we'd go back up to my room and this time if I asked to flip you'd say no and then you'd ride me until I scream.”

Martha’s eyes grew dark and she licked her lips almost unconsciously. “Such a shame I have to go home then.”

“It really is.” Hänschen's phone rang. “Yeah? Why? Okay. Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm not a baby mother. Yeah, bye.” He hung up and looked at Martha. “That was my mother. They're staying overnight in the city. They won't be back until 9 tomorrow.”

“So does that mean?” Martha said hopefully. 

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to.”

Martha practically flew out of her snow clothes and jumped forward to embrace Hänschen. “Thanks Hänschen. I just… really don't want to go home right now.”

“I know the feeling,” Hänschen muttered. “Ready for shitty spaghetti?”

“Please!” 

Martha followed Hänschen into the kitchen. They ended up not going a second round that night, choosing to talk and watch whatever was on TV before they went upstairs and snuggled up in Hänschen's bed. Hänschen had given Martha one of his t shirts to sleep in, and she loved the feeling of being surrounded by Hänschen and his warmth and smell, and wished she could never leave. 

 

The morning came, and Martha woke up at six. “Hänschen…” she called in a sing song voice. He grunted into his pillow. “Hänschen… wake up darling…”

“What do you want?” Hänschen groaned sleepily.

“I think you said something last night about me riding you until you screamed.”

Hänschen sat bolt upright. “Really?”

Instead of answering, Martha slipped herself over Hänschen’s lap and kissed him, pulling him as tightly against her as possible. 

 

It became a pattern, Martha showing up at Hänschen’s house late at night or on the weekend and having sex with him whenever she and her mom had a volatile fight. They both enjoyed it immensely, and it was nice to have a happy place, especially one that was secret from everyone but themselves. They silently agreed that there was no reason to date because that wasn’t what their relationship was. It was sexual and platonic, but there was no romance.

In the middle of February, about two and a half months after the first time, Martha looked at Hänschen, both of them naked but wrapped up in a quilt. “I think this might stop soon.”

“Oh?” Hänschen asked with no particular inflection.

“Yeah. My mom and I are going into family counseling so… yeah.”

“Alright,” Hänschen said, “If that’s what you want.”

Martha nodded and smiled at him before she started to get dressed.

 

It was two and a half weeks after that, a week before Hänschen’s birthday, and his parents had once again taken Thea out of the house and left him to his own devices. Martha had come over, and as he collapsed next to her on the mattress he caught a glimpse of the look in her eyes and thought he knew what it meant. A hand reached over to his shoulder and he heard Martha turn over to face him. “It’s over, isn’t it?” he asked the ceiling. 

“My mom wants me to not have sex unless it’s with someone I’m dating, and our therapist says it’s a reasonable request for someone our age.”

“We’re almost fifteen,” Hänschen said, seemingly addressing the not-present adults.

“My mom doesn’t think I should be having  _ any _ sex until I’m sixteen, much less casual sex. She doesn’t want me to be one of ‘those’ girls.”

“A slut?” Hänschen said, and Martha nodded. “There’s nothing wrong with sluts, and I would know.”

“I know Hänschen. And really, I love all of this, but I need my mom on my side before I start doing things behind her back again. I’m sorry.” 

He finally looked at her, and she did look genuinely sorry. “I know. And if you ever need someone to help keep your bed warm, or even a warm bed to crawl into, I’m here. Well, maybe not here because I might be out hitting on seniors, but you know what I mean.”

Martha smiled and kissed his forehead. “Thank you Hänschen. For everything. You’re a great friend.” She stood up to get dressed, and Hänschen watched her. They hugged before she left his room for the final time, and he couldn’t help but wish more people were interested in the kind of friendship he and Martha had had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martha is still dealing with the aftermath of her childhood abuse, and because of it she connects male attention automatically with sex. So while she does want to have sex with Hänschen, she also has toxic associations/strange motivations behind it.


	3. Melchior I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my kids make bad decisions! but they do enjoy sex...  
> Sexy times are from "'Shit Martha,' he whispered, kicking his shoes off," to, "She sat up, and looked at Melchior."

Melchior had barely been done with his last class of freshman year when he got a text inviting him to a huge end of year party. 

“Gabor!” Melchior turned around to see Hänschen walking in his direction. “You going?” He pointed at his phone screen, where Melchior knew the same invite was displayed. 

“Yeah, why?”

“My dad likes you, so if I say you're going, he'll let me go for sure.” Before Melchior could respond he said, “I gotta go. Ernst!” and Hänschen was gone. 

Melchior watched people pass by for a minute. He saw Otto, Georg, and Anna, probably heading to Georg’s to play video games. Hänschen and Ernst, leaning against Ernst’s locker and laughing. Ilse and Wendla, holding hands and smiling, heading wherever they went to be adorable. 

Wendla and Melchior had broken up at the beginning of January, and while Melchior definitely enjoyed some of the aspects of being single, he did miss the idea of having someone to call his own. He shook his head, slamming his locker for the last time and walking over to Moritz’s. 

Moritz was standing at his locker, talking to Ernst and laughing at something. A weird feeling twisted in Melchior’s stomach. Was Moritz flirting with Ernst? No. No, Moritz liked girls.  _ Just _ girls. Still. Moritz never seemed  _ that  _ open around anyone. Melchior looked over at Hänschen, leaning on the locker behind Ernst’s and looking thoroughly annoyed. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Melchior, except they all knew that Ernst was gay. Not that any of them thought it was a problem (especially since Hänschen and Melchior liked guys too), but Melchior and Hänschen would both be annoyed if they lost their best friends to dating someone. 

Melchior cleared his throat and Moritz finally turned to look at him. “Oh hey Melchi. You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Let’s head out.” He turned away from Hänschen and Ernst, Moritz following him out of the school. 

“We’re sophomores now,” Melchior said absently. 

“Yay, more stress and more work!” Moritz and Melchior laughed at Moritz’s sarcasm. 

“Hey, you want to go out tonight?”

“I—What?”

“I got invited to this end of year party at some junior’s house. Hänschen’s going, but I don't fancy spending a whole night drinking with Hänschen and watching him flirt with upper classmen. So do you want to go with me?”

Moritz flushed pink. “My dad is having me do prep work for next school year.”

“Already?”

“You know what he’s like. Sorry Melchi.”

They reached Melchior’s house. “Bye Mo. Don't be a stranger dude, and don't let your dad trap you in work.” There was an awkward pause before the boys hugged. Moritz let go first and walked off to his own house. Melchior watched him go. 

 

The party was about as fun as Melchior had predicted. He and Hänschen were both slightly buzzed and Hänschen had flirted with everyone who'd walked past. Finally Melchior had enough. “How do you get with people all the time?”

Hänschen hiccuped and said, “I just do.”

“How?”

“You interested in getting people Melchior?”

“I'm a single fifteen year old boy who hasn't seen any decent action in three weeks. Yes I'm interested in getting people.”

“Then you just flirt with enough people that someone finally says yes.” Hänschen gestured vaguely at Melchior. “You're hot, someone will say yes.”

“You think I'm hot?” Melchior raised an eyebrow and smirked. 

“Not today Gabor. I have other plans. Last party with the seniors and I intend to go out with a bang.” He smirked and Melchior laughed at the double entendre. Hänschen waved and disappeared into the sea of people. Melchior stayed, leaning against the kitchen island. 

“Are you as bored as I am?” Melchior turned and saw Martha smiling at him. 

“Yeah, pretty much. How'd you get invited?”

Martha shrugged. “I know one of the guys throwing it.”

Melchior raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything.  _ He _ didn't even know who was throwing the party. He got invited because he and Hänschen were those two freshmen that showed up at every party. Melchior may not have been as fun as Hänschen, but he was still a great person to have at a party. Also, the sophomores figured inviting freshmen boys could get freshmen girls to come too. 

“So how was your year?”

“Pretty good. Lonely. How are you?”

Melchior’s face fell a little and he nodded for a minute before speaking. “It sucks. It's been five fucking months and I still miss her sometimes. But I don't think I even miss her, I think I just miss having someone, you know? Someone who cares.”

Martha nodded, looking thoughtful. After a pause she tentatively said, “I know it's not the same as having someone of your own, but I could make you less lonely.”

“Really?”

Martha put her hand out. “Follow me.” Melchior, slightly taken aback at Martha’s forwardness, took her hand and did as he was told. 

Martha led Melchior through a maze of turns to an empty bedroom and locked the door behind them. She turned to Melchior, who was standing still in the middle of the room, still looking shocked, and walked over to him. “Don't look so nervous Melchior. It's just me.”

“I'm not nervous,” Melchior said obstinately. “But ‘just’ you are one of the hottest girls in our grade, and you just dragged me into an empty room at a party.”

“Oh, you are nervous,” Martha breathed onto his skin, tracing his neck gently with her pointer finger. “Don't be nervous Melchi. I won't force you to do anything.”

“But what do you  _ want _ me to do?”

In answer, Martha tipped her head up, pushing her lips towards Melchior’s. He met hers tentatively, still confused by the events that were unfolding, but when Martha slid her tongue against his lips, Melchior’s hands flew to her hair and her waist, pulling Martha tighter against him. Martha snorted a little, tangling her fingers in Melchior’s hair. She guided him backwards gently toward the bed. When his knees hit the bed frame, Melchior broke apart from Martha and looked at her questioningly. She nodded, and he fell backwards onto the bed. Martha followed, climbing up to straddle Melchior’s hips. She leaned down and kissed with a new ferocity, Melchior pulling gently on her hair as their tongues pressed sloppily into the other person’s mouth. A thought occurred to Melchior, and he pushed back suddenly. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” Martha said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you?”

“No.”

“So then can we go back to what we were doing? That was more fun than discussing our sobriety.”

Melchior pulled her head back towards his and met her lips with his own. Martha’s lips descended down Melchior’s neck, stopping to suck a hickey into the bottom. 

“So,” Melchior breathed, “what are we talking here?”

“What do you mean?” Martha said into his skin. 

“Like second? Third?”

Martha sat up and smiled devilishly at Melchior before pulling a condom out of her bra. Melchior's eyes widened and Martha backpedaled furiously. “Only if you want to! Like I said, no pressure.”

Melchior shook his head. “No I do. Definitely. Just—” he flushed red and Martha’s worried face melted into a surprised grin. 

“Really Melchi? Never? Not with Wendla or–?”

Melchior spluttered. “Don't you think you'd know? I mean, I would've told you and all the others.”

“You might want to know that Angela has been telling everyone that you fucked her right after you and Wendla broke up and that's why she didn't take you back.”

Melchior sighed. “That girl is a desperate bitch.”

Martha laughed. “Normally I wouldn't condone calling any girl either of those things, but yeah. She really is. Sorry Melch. I wouldn't have asked if I knew you were a virgin.”

“I still want to.”

Martha raised an eyebrow. “You really want to lose your virginity in a one night stand at some high school party while you're fifteen?”

Melchior raised an eyebrow back. “Hänschen lost his at some party when we were like thirteen, and clearly you're not one either, so why should I be any different? Virginity is fake and you are quite possibly the hottest girl in our grade. And I want to. Isn't that enough?”

Martha laughed. “I should've known you'd be ready with the social commentary and flawless logic. I suppose you're right. So are we going to do this?”

“We are. But I don't think we need that quite yet.” He gestured at the condom in Martha’s hand, and she nodded, setting it down on the bedside table and leaning back over Melchior. He ran his fingers down Martha’s sides. It was only then that he really registered her outfit. She looked distinctly un-Martha-like. Whereas the Martha Bessell that Melchior knew usually wore loose, flowing, light colored shirts with cute skirts or dark jeans, the Martha Bessell that was straddling his hips was wearing a tight red strapless shirt and short black shorts, both of which exposed skin he hadn’t seen on his own ex-girlfriend, let alone on Martha. She wasn’t wearing shoes, and Melchi suddenly felt very ugly in his pink fuckboy shorts, red button up, and two year old clunky Nikes. “You look fantastic Martha,” he whispered.

She blushed. “Thank you Melchior. So do you. Although,” she leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “I bet we’d both look better with our shirts off.”

Melchior nodded emphatically, and he reached to the bottom of Martha’s shirt. It was more of a struggle than either of them expected to pull her shirt off, and they both laughed a little when Martha finally wiggled out of it. Martha leaned forward, kissing down Melchior’s neck as her fingers undid the buttons on his shirt. Melchior shuddered as Martha’s kisses continued down to his navel. Martha sat back up and leaned forward, pressing her breasts against Melchior’s chest as she kissed him. Melchior reached around Martha’s back, his fingers finding the hooks of her bra. He raised an eyebrow at her, and Martha nodded, so Melchior deftly undid the clasp and pulled Martha’s bra off her arms.

Melchior’s eyes darkened and suddenly he turned the pair of them over so Martha was pinned underneath him. “ _ Shit _ Martha,” he whispered, kicking his shoes off. He lowered his mouth to her neck, sucking a hickey into the base of her neck before trailing down to suck on Martha’s nipple. His hand gently traced her other nipple, and Martha let out a loud exhale.

“Fuck Melchior,” Martha said as he switched his mouth to her other nipple.

“You like that?” Melchior had intended it to be a real question, but his voice came out lower than he had expected. Martha nodded and whined faintly.

Melchior’s hands trailed to the button of Martha’s shorts as he mouth returned to meet Martha’s. He gently undid the fastening of her shorts and pushed them off her hips. Martha wiggled slightly, and Melchior clambered off of her, pushing her shorts down. 

“You too,” Martha said, pointing at Melchior’s jeans, and he fumbled at the zipper, pushing his jeans down and blushing as his erection became obvious. “Someone’s excited,” Martha laughed, pulling Melchior back on top of her. Melchior blushed redder, and Martha giggled. “Don’t worry Melchi. We’re basically there.” As punctuation to her thought, she pulled down her underwear with her hand and hooked her fingers in the waistband of Melchior’s. He immediately nodded, and Martha pulled his boxers down to his knee. Martha reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the condom sitting there. She handed it to Melchior, who took it, looking slightly baffled.

“You’re sure you’re ready?” Martha nodded, and Melchior unwrapped the condom, slipped it over himself, and gently slid into Martha. They both gasped, and Melchior moved slowly back and forth, hips rolling in gentle circles.

“Can you…?” Martha pulled Melchior’s hand over to her clitoris, and he rubbed gently. “Yessss,” Martha sighed, “Shit Melchi.”

Melchior’s hips sped up and he groaned a little. There was a weird tearing sound, and Melchior stopped, looking at Martha, eyes wide as saucers. “Did you hear that?”

“Fuck,” Martha spat, “I thought I imagined it.”

“Shit.” Melchior pulled out and swore again. “It ripped. It fucking ripped.” He took a deep breath then asked Martha, “Do you have another one?”

Martha looked panicked. “I had that one just in case. I wasn't expecting…”

“Great,” Melchior said, “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Melchi,” Martha said soothingly, rubbing Melchior’s arm. “We can keep going.”

Melchior's neck almost snapped as his head turned to Martha. “You want to be a teen mom?”

“I’m on the pill, I don’t have any STIs, and you’re a virgin. We’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

Martha nodded, and Melchior pulled the broken condom off, threw it to the side, and pushed back in. Melchior’s hand returned to Martha’s clitoris, and she sighed. His hips sped up and became more erratic. His brow furrowed, and Martha whispered, “It’s okay Melchior. It’s fantastic. Whenever you’re ready, it’s fine. It’s fine Melchior. It’s amazing, you’re fantastic, this is great.”

Melchior exhaled harshly as he came, and Martha sighed. He pulled out, kneeling on the mattress, as he rubbed Martha’s clitoris with more pressure. Her head tipped back and she groaned. “Fuck, just like that Melchior.” He grinned, and Melchior gently kissed her abdomen. A few minutes later, Martha groaned and arched up from the mattress. She sat up, and looked at Melchior. “Thank you Melchior.”

“You’ll let me know, right? About the…?” He gestured vaguely toward the condom on the floor and Martha’s stomach.

Martha nodded. Silently, she pulled sheets around herself as Melchior got dressed. He put his hand on the doorknob and Martha said, “Melchi?” He turned around. “Can you… can you not tell anyone?”

Melchior nodded. “Sure,” he said and left.

 

A week and a half later, everyone was hanging out at Melchior’s house in his basement. In a rare moment of silence, Melchior cast a sidelong glance at Martha, and Moritz noticed something on his neck.

“Melchi! Is that a hickey?”

Everyone turned their eyes to Melchior, and he took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Moritz stared at him. “Well? Are you going to say anything else?”

“Nope.”

“You’re not going to tell us any details?”

Melchior shook his head. “It was just a hook up with a nice, hot girl at a party. It’s fine, Moritz. It’s all right.” His last sentence sounded more like a question, and he glanced at Martha, who nodded almost imperceptibly. He smiled at her, and she turned away to talk to Thea. Melchior looked back at the guys, who were all still gawking and demanding details, except for Hänschen who had a knowing smirk plastered on his face. Melchior shook his head, clearing it of everything but the plans he and his friends were assembling for a truly epic summer. And in Melchior’s opinion, it was off to a great start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kids, if the condom breaks, stop the sexy times. do not follow the example in this chapter.


	4. Melchior II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all got really lucky I had a spurt of creativity and some free time so I am publishing the last two chapters of this right now! it's been quite the ride with my young, sexually active precious precocious children  
> Sexy times: "Melchior climbed over Hänschen..." to "Hänschen panted, trying to catch his breath..."

Melchior partied a lot the summer before sophomore year, because what else is a teenage only-child stuck at home all summer going to do with his time? And besides, as Melchior had learned with the first party that summer, parties were a great way to get action.

Melchior thought he was very different from the other boys his age because they all drank to get smashed, but he drank because he liked the taste. That was what he told himself as he and Hänschen stood with a bunch of seniors around the kitchen counter in whoever’s house this was, preparing to take a tequila shot. “Go!” someone said, and Melchior licked the salt off his hand, threw the shot down his throat, and put a lime slice in his mouth. He looked at Hänschen, who also had a lime in his mouth, and grimaced. 

Hänschen spat his lime out and smiled. “Never done a tequila shot huh Melchior?”

Melchior pulled the lime out of his mouth and said, “Yeah, no. Don’t mind the salt or the lime, but the tequila burns.”

“But you know what the great thing about tequila is?” Melchior shook his head and Hänschen grinned. “You can blame whatever dumb crap you do on it.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Hänschen said as he stepped a little closer to Melchior. “You want to dance?”

“With you?”

“Yeah,” Hänschen said, “Why not? I’m hot, you’re hot, we’re both here alone…”

“Sure,” Melchior said, “What the hell?” He let Hänschen drag him into the next room where everyone was probably too drunk for four in the afternoon, but no one cared. There was barely enough space in the room for the probably hundred and fifty people that were crammed in there, but Melchior didn’t notice. He was too busy watching Hänschen move his hips in a way that was absolutely sinful.

“You just gonna watch Melchior, or are you going to bring yourself over here and dance  _ with _ me?”

Melchior walked like a newborn colt over to Hänschen’s side. Hänschen looked up at him (Melchior had always been slightly taller) and smiled as he took Melchior’s hands and put them on his hips. Hänschen moved a little before he leaned forward and kissed Melchior. Melchior leaned back in shock. “Really?”

Hänschen shrugged. “Why not?”

Melchior looked at him and nodded. Hänschen grinned and turned around, forcing Melchior to let go of his hips before he started grinding on him. Melchior clutched Hänschen’s hips and pulled him back to whisper in his ear, “You wanna find somewhere more private?” Hänschen nodded, and Melchior dragged him to a spare bedroom on the second floor of the house. He locked the door before Hänschen practically jumped on him, pressing him against the door in a surprisingly strong kiss. He pulled back to say, “Where is this coming from Hänschen?” 

“I just really like hot people,” Hänschen said, “and you are one, so why not?” He started sucking a mark on Melchior’s neck before starting to pull the taller boy’s shirt off. Melchior leaned back to allow the shirt to pass over his head before pulling at the buttons of Hänschen’s, which immediately came open.

“Stripper buttons? Really?” Hänschen shrugged, and Melchior laughed before he groaned at the feeling of Hänschen’s mouth on his collarbone. He felt a hand on his belt and Melchior whispered, “Wait.” Hänschen’s fingers immediately stopped and he waited for Melchior to say something. “I’ve never done this with another guy. I mean, I’ve kissed guys before but never–”

Hänschen stopped him with a kiss. “I get it. If you want to stop, that’s fine with me.”

Melchior thought for a second, looking at Hänschen’s bare chest and piercing green eyes. “No. Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?” Melchior was surprised to see how much Hänschen actually looked like he cared. He and Hänschen had never been too nice to each other, but in this moment he seemed so delicate and kind.

“I’m positive.” Melchior swooped forward to capture Hänschen’s mouth again. He walked him backwards until the back of Hänschen’s knees hit the bedframe and he collapsed onto the mattress. Melchior climbed over Hänschen and stared down at the blonde boy. 

“Well? You kind of need to take your pants off for this Melchior.”

Melchior laughed, then pushed his shorts and boxers down. He turned back to Hänschen and undid the other boy’s fly before pulling his shorts and boxers off. 

“Shit,” Melchior whispered, “I don't have a condom.”

Hänschen rolled his eyes. “There's a condom and lube in my back pocket. Honestly Melchior, you gotta be ready if you're going to fuck people at parties.”

While he scrambled for Hänschen’s shorts, Melchior remembered the party on the last day of school and the state of panic he had existed in for a week and a half after, waiting for Martha to tell him that everything was alright. Maybe Hänschen was right. 

Condom and lube in his hand, Melchior climbed back over Hänschen. He looked down at the blonde boy and bit his lip. “I don't know what to do.”

Hänschen sighed. “Of course you don't. Here, hand me the lube.”

Melchior did as he was instructed and watched Hänschen stretch himself. “Okay,” Hänschen breathed. “Ready.”

Melchior rolled the condom on and gently pushed into Hänschen. Hänschen half-laughed. “I'm not some breakable princess. Fuck me for real.”

Melchior rolled his eyes and started pounding into Hänschen. “Fuck, yes,” Hänschen whined. Melchior wrapped one hand around Hänschen’s erection and he could've sworn Hänschen squealed. 

Melchior couldn't help but think that sex with guys and sex with girls, although very similar, were worlds apart. He was less scared of hurting Hänschen than of hurting the girls, and it felt more hot than beautiful. Small differences, but differences. 

Hänschen groaned and Melchior felt him tighten. He thrust faster, and both boys moaned as they came seconds apart. Melchior pulled out and collapsed on the mattress, throwing the condom off as he fell. Hänschen panted, trying to catch his breath, and Melchior cast him a sidelong glance. 

“I don't feel like getting up,” he admitted. 

Hänschen laughed. “We don't have to. It's like eleven thirty, and we can probably crash here. Goodnight Melchior.” Melchior listened to his breathing slow gradually, and fell asleep not too long after Hänschen. 

 

“Fun night Gabor?” 

Melchior’s eyes hurt as the room he was in was suddenly filled with light. He opened his eyes to see a senior leering over the bed that he and Hänschen had collapsed into the night before.

“You and little Häns, huh? Never would’ve guessed about you. Now you two need to get up. My parents are home in four hours and I gotta clean.” The door slammed shut and Melchior groaned. He picked up a pillow and threw it at Hänschen, who immediately sat up.

“Whasgoingon?” Hänschen mumbled.

“We gotta leave dude.” Melchior searched the floor for his pants, cursing himself for not keeping better track of his things the night before. Hänschen threw him his shirt before rolling off the bed to find his own clothes.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” Melchior said, more to himself that Hänschen.

“Why not? We’re both young and hot,” Hänschen shrugged, “Why not have a little fun?”

Melchior nodded. “This isn’t going to change anything, right?”

Hänschen walked over to Melchior and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Nope. I still love-hate you, same as always.” Hänschen snatched his clothes off the floor and walked out of the room, praying silently that Melchior would fuck him again. Sitting on the hardwood floor, Melchior was wondering how exactly one goes about asking a one night stand to become a two or three or four night stand. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> melchior is a dumbass :) when will he get his shit together??? (quite possibly never)


	5. Moritz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my lil smol gay boy gets his chapter :) imo, this is the cutest/most romantic chapter  
> moritz is anxious and melchior has beats his high score for "being a good person/partner" in this chapter of the fic.  
> sexy times twice!  
> "Of course I want to," to, "That was amazing."  
> "...knew it. 'Yes,'" to, "Melchior collapsed on..."

“What I’m trying to say is do you want to go out with me?” 

Moritz was sitting on the edge of Melchior’s bed and had been watching him pace back and forth while he spoke in seemingly endless circles and loops. Finally, Melchior had stopped and turned to Moritz and asked the question. Moritz was stunned completely speechless, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

“Forget it, forget it. I mean, you probably don’t even like guys. And if you did you probably wouldn’t like me. Why would anyone like me? I’m a mess, and you know more than anyone. Oh god, just forget–”

“Melchior.” Moritz had stood up and put his hands comfortingly on Melchior’s shoulders, the way Melchior had done to Moritz so many times to calm Moritz down. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead just leaned forward and kissed Melchior.

Melchior kissed back before he leaned away and said, “You really mean it Moritz?”

Moritz answered with another kiss.

 

They’d been dating in secret for about two months and Moritz half appreciated that Melchior had been letting him set the pace for their relationship. The other half of Moritz wanted to scream at Melchior, “Don’t you see how much I want you?” but he didn’t know how. Moritz wasn’t sure if it was his fault or Melchior’s that they hadn’t seen anything below each other’s belly buttons. All he knew was that it absolutely sucked.

One October afternoon they were lying on Melchior’s bed in the basement, shirts off, lips swollen, and hair mussed. Moritz was still trying to catch his breath as he watched Melchior out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to say  _ something _ , he just didn’t know what. Melchior was the one who had had sex before, so Moritz felt it should have been easy for him to ask. That didn’t stop his heart from racing every time he even thought the words.

“Mo?” Melchior’s melodic voice broke through the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask a weird question?”

Moritz laughed. “You ask weird questions all the time Melchi.”

Melchior turned to look at him and Moritz met his gaze. “I mean like personal. Really personal.” Moritz nodded. There wasn’t much he and Melchior didn’t talk about before, and now that they were dating he figured they should be able to talk about almost anything. “Okay. Wow, here goes. Uh, do you still, like, touch yourself?” Melchior cringed and turned bright red.

“Uh,” Moritz said, feeling heat rush to his face and looking up at the ceiling just so he didn’t have to see Melchior. “Uh, yeah. Yeah I do. Why?”

Melchior breathed a sigh of relief and Moritz looked at him. “Some people when they start dating someone stop touching themselves and I realized that I still did and maybe you didn’t and maybe you had all sorts of unresolved sexual frustration because I didn’t know that you didn’t touch yourself and I started feeling really guilty and stupid–” Moritz cut him off with a kiss and Melchior smiled at him as he drew away. They laid there, smiling at each other for a second before Moritz had a thought.

“What, um… I mean… what do you think about when you… you know…?”

Melchior’s sweet smile changed ever so slightly into a mischievous grin. “You of course.”

“Me? But I’m not sexy or anything,” Moritz said, blushing red again.

“Of course you are, especially when you’re lying beneath me with your shirt off, and your head tipped back, and your beautiful mouth open in a moan or a gasp,” Melchior’s voice was slow and his eyes closed as he described Moritz and Moritz felt heat rushing down as he listened to Melchior. Melchior’s eyes opened a little and caught Moritz’s. “What about you?”

“Um… well… I think about you.” Melchior nodded encouragingly and Moritz suddenly felt ridiculously confident. “How nice your tongue feels on mine, the warmth of your hands pressed against me, your breath on my neck, the feeling that shoots down my spine when you grind against me…” Moritz’s hand drifted to cover his groin but Melchior grabbed his wrist. “What?”

“Don’t.” Moritz tilted his head in confusion and Melchior’s grin shrank to a shy smile. “Me too Mo.” Moritz’s gaze shifted from Melchior’s face to his legs and Moritz understood what Melchior meant.

“So,” Moritz said, clearing his throat, “Do you want me to, uh, help you with that?” 

Melchior laughed a little and said, “Only if you really want to.”

Moritz looked at him and nodded. “Of course I want to.” He moved so he was sitting on Melchior and kissed him hard, wiggling around at the same time to try and find some sort of friction for one of them. Melchior moaned and Moritz grinned as he kissed from Melchior’s lips down his neck and along his chest and abs until he reached the top of his belt. Moritz looked up at Melchior as he slowly undid the belt, and then Melchior’s fly. He pulled Melchior’s jeans off and just took in the sight of Melchior lying there in just his boxers, hard because of  _ Moritz. _ Moritz reached out tentatively and traced the line of Melchior’s dick through his boxers with a finger. 

“Moritz…” Melchior hissed. “Please don’t tease me.”

Moritz grinned devilishly and pulled down Melchior’s boxers. “You’re so beautiful Melchi,” Moritz said before he dove down. The moan that Melchior let out was almost a scream. He still couldn’t believe that Moritz, his  _ boyfriend _ Moritz, was sucking him off.

“I’m sorry Moritz. I’m sorry about everyone else. It was always you. With Hänschen and the girls… it was always you Moritz.” Melchior tangled his fingers in Moritz’s brown hair and groaned when Moritz swallowed around him, which earned a small muffled moan from Moritz, which in turn sent amazing vibrations up Melchior’s spine. Moritz looked up at Melchior, his brown eyes shining and pupils blown to almost eclipse the irises, and Melchior almost screamed at the sight. He grabbed the sheets and curled his toes, trying to hold on, but all he could think about was Moritz’s beautiful face between his legs and beautiful pink lips wrapped around his dick. “Moritz…”

“Mhmm?”

“I’m close,” he gasped. His breathing was heavy and when Moritz looked up at him again, he couldn’t help push his hips up and come hard in Moritz’s mouth. “Fuck Moritz.”

“Good?” Moritz asked as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and Melchior thought that might be one of the best sights in the world.  

“Amazing Moritz. Now,” he flipped them over so he was on top, Moritz trapped below him, “your turn.” Melchior immediately began undoing Moritz’s belt with while he kissed him. He pushed down Moritz’s pants and boxers in one move. “Mo… you’re so gorgeous.” Moritz flushed red and felt blood rush to his groin at the compliment. Moritz had had one other person blow him in his life, only a few weeks before he started dating Melchior, and a few days after Melchior had had sex with Hänschen. But the whole time Ilse had been kneeling below him he’d been thinking about Melchior. (Well, that and how Ilse would possibly explain to her girlfriend that she had sucked him off. Later he found out that Ilse and Wendla had been on a break because of a fight about Wendla’s mom or Ilse’s mom or something ridiculous. He still felt gross when he thought about it for too long.) So now, having Melchior’s warm beautiful mouth actually wrapped around him, Moritz had to grab the sheets for dear life to not embarrass himself. As it was, when Melchior swallowed warm and tight around him, Moritz couldn’t help himself.

“Melchi… I…” Melchior nodded and scraped his teeth lightly against the bottom of Moritz’s dick. Moritz came with a shout of his boyfriend’s name. Melchior collapsed next to him on the mattress and Moritz began tracing patterns with his finger in the sweat on  his boyfriend’s chest. “That was amazing. We should’ve been doing this for so much longer.” Melchior nodded, and in a rare moment of boldness, Moritz said, “I want to sleep with you Melchi.”

Melchior looked at him, eyes searching long and hard. “Really?”

“Yes. So much. Please.”

Melchior grinned. “Absolutely.”

 

The knowledge of the plans he and Melchior had made weighed down on Moritz as he muddled through his classes. Moritz  _ tried _ to pay attention, but all he could think about was Melchior's mouth on his, his hands roving over Melchior's body, the noises Melchior had made lying beneath him, the sheer skill Melchior had sucked him off with, the condoms and lube Moritz knew were sitting in Melchior’s bedside table. Suffice it to say, he was more than a little preoccupied. It wasn't his fault algebra couldn’t hold a candle to his boyfriend. 

Moritz, true to character, was as nervous as he was excited. Melchior's mother would be out of the house, and Moritz had his parents permission to sleep over. Even so, he was worried. What if his dad called while he and Melchior were having sex? What if Melchior’s mom came home early and came looking for them? And he had more practical in-the-moment worries too. In health, they had all learned the mechanics of hetero sex, and in theory gay sex had to be similar, but it couldn't be the same. What if Moritz hurt Melchior or himself? What if their bodies just didn't fit together? Moritz had been waiting so long for Melchior to hold him the way he was now holding him. He couldn't afford to mess it up. 

Lost in thought, he didn't hear the bell ring. “Moritz?” Melchior said, tapping his shoulder, “It's time to go.”

“Oh! Yeah.” Moritz shoved his books and pens into his backpack and tripped into the locker hallway. He stood facing his open locker, trying to focus his thoughts and clear his head. He was going over to his boyfriend’s house and he was going to have sex with his boyfriend for the first time and he was fine fine fine fine—

“Moritz?” He jumped at Melchior’s voice breaking through his thoughts. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah! Just… Nervous.”

“About what?” Ernst's cheery voice asked. Moritz cursed himself for not speaking more quietly, and for having friends that cared about his nervousness. 

“Oh just school stuff you know papers and… stuff.”

Hänschen, leaning on Ernst’s locker and looking aggressively bored, raised an eyebrow. “Okay Moritz. Good luck with your papers and… stuff. C’mon Ernst.” He turned and started walking down the hall. Ernst waved to Moritz and Melchior before running to catch up with Hänschen. 

“When are they going to get it together?” Melchior laughed, “They're so clearly into each other it's kind of gross to watch.” He paused, examining Moritz’s face. “Are you sure you're okay Mo? Because we don't have to—”

“I'm fine,” Moritz said, the edge of panic in voice contradicting his reassurances. “Let's just… Let's go.” 

Melchior talked the whole way back to his house, but Moritz wasn't listening. He knew it didn't matter though. Melchior, although he'd never admit it to anyone but Moritz, babbled when he was nervous in the same way that Moritz tuned everything out when it got to be too much to process. 

They reached Melchior's house, moving silently into the basement. Moritz sat on Melchior's bed, fiddling with the comforter. Melchior sat down next to him, watching him. 

“Moritz, if you're uncomfortable with this—”

“It was my idea and I want to,” Moritz said more confidently than he felt, “I'm just… nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't know what to expect I guess.”

“Do you want me to tell you?” Moritz nodded slightly and Melchior's mouth went dry. “So first it'll just be making out like always. And then we'll start taking each other's clothes off and touching each other. Then—do you want to be on top or on the bottom?”

Moritz shrugged, cheeks stained red. “I don't know. Whichever you don't want to do I guess.”

“Okay. So I'll be on top. Which means I'll have to put lube on my fingers and stretch you so you don't get hurt. And then I'll put a condom on and we can go however slow or fast you need me to, okay?” Moritz nodded and Melchior felt relieved. He felt better going into this if Moritz knew what to expect, at least a little. Moritz was probably overestimating how much time it would take, or how painful it would be, but that was fine. Melchior could just show him. “So are you ready?”

Moritz looked at Melchior, his handsome, smart, sexy, amazing, funny, caring  _ boyfriend _ , even if no one else knew it. “Yes.”

Melchior beamed at him and pulled Moritz into a kiss. Moritz turned to face Melchior and slowly started to lay down on the bed, pulling Melchior on top of him. Melchior straddled his boyfriend’s hips, gently pushing his tongue into Moritz’s mouth. Moritz opened his mouth, sucking and licking back with enthusiasm. Melchior’s hands crept under the edge of Moritz’s shirt and he dragged his fingertips gently along Moritz’s stomach. “Can I?” 

Moritz sat up to let Melchior slip his shirt over his head, and he grabbed Melchior's shirt. Melchior nodded, and Moritz pushed it off his boyfriend's head. They regarded each other for a second, before Melchior pushed Moritz back into the bed. Their lips met in a crash before Melchior started trailing away from Moritz’s lips, over his jaw, down his neck, pausing to suck on one of Moritz’s nipples. “Shit,” Moritz whispered.

“Yeah?” Melchior asked, his breath ghosting over the wet trail he left. 

“Yeah, God, yes,” Moritz said, his head tipping back and mouth falling open. 

“This isn't even the half of it babe,” Melchior whispered, leaning up to kiss Moritz before kissing a trail down to the edge of Moritz’s jeans. He looked up at Moritz, who nodded, before undoing Moritz’s jeans and slipping them off his legs. Melchior stroked Moritz gently through his boxers, drawing a moan from the boy on his back. Moritz reached up to undo Melchior’s jeans and slid his hands around to cup his boyfriend's ass. “Shit, yes.”

“Yeah?” Moritz spoke as he slid Melchior's pants down. 

“Yeah,” Melchior said, kicking his jeans off. He looked at Moritz, flushed and gasping, until they made eye contact. A fire seemed to light in both pairs of eyes, and Melchior dived back down, kissing Moritz with renewed passion and ferocity. Melchior’s fingers knotted into Moritz’s hair and Moritz’s fingers ran up and down Melchior’s spine.

“Melchi…”

“Hm?”

“I’m ready Melchior.”

Melchior pulled his head up and looked at Moritz. He raised his eyebrows and Moritz nodded. Melchior reached over Moritz and grabbed the bottle of lube and a condom off the bedside table. He shifted back onto his heels and smiled and Moritz, who smiled back anxiously.

“It’s okay Mo.”

“I know,” Moritz said, “You’re here. Of course it’ll be okay.”

Melchior grinned and pulled Moritz’s boxers down. His eyes darkened and he poured lube onto two fingers. Gently, Melchior rubbed his fingers over Moritz’s rim. Moritz whined a little and Melchior kissed his thigh. Slowly, Melchior pushed the tip of one finger in and Moritz groaned.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Moritz breathed. “It’s just… weird.”

Melchior nodded. He imagined it’d be more than a little strange to have a foreign object in his ass. He pushed his finger in deeper and Moritz gasped. Melchior pulled back and pushed two fingers in. Moritz’s hand squeezed Melchior’s shoulder tightly. Melchior waited until Moritz’s grip slackened before pulling out again and pushing in with three fingers. Moritz arched off the mattress as Melchior’s fingertips grazed his prostate.

“Fuck,” Moritz gasped.

“You ready?”

Moritz nodded, and Melchior shook his boxers off. He unwrapped a condom and rolled it on before coating himself with lube. Slowly, he began to press into Moritz, and he felt Moritz’s grip tighten again, his other hand scraping Melchior’s back. When he was fully sheathed in Moritz, Melchior stilled. “Are you okay Moritz?”

Moritz nodded. “Yes,” he hissed softly. Slowly, Melchior began rocking his hips back and forth and Moritz groaned. He laughed and said, “Is that it?”

Melchior raised an eyebrow and sped up, one hand tentatively reaching down to Moritz’s erection. He began stroking gently and Moritz’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Melchi…” Moritz breathed, “I’m not gonna…”

“It’s okay,” Melchior reassured him, “It’s fine Mo. It’s just a bullshit first time. We’ll have lots more great sex, and it’s great just because it’s you.”

Moritz took a deep breath and smiled at Melchior before he came suddenly. “Sorry,” Moritz panted.

“It’s fine,” Melchior said, “I–” Melchior’s sentence was lost in an exhale as he came. He pulled out slowly and smiled at Moritz.

Melchior collapsed on the mattress, tied the condom and threw it somewhere to deal with it later, and looked at Moritz, whose face was wet with what looked like tear tracks. “Moritz? Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Moritz looked at him and smiled through tears. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“I’m sorry Moritz,” Melchior said, pulling Moritz closer to him, “I was oblivious to both of our feelings and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine Melchi,” Moritz whispered, “And like a great man said, we’ll have lots more great times.”

Melchior grinned. “Pretty sure I said great sex, but I'll accept that.”

“Good,” Moritz said, “Because I'm not just in this for the sex. I'm in this for you Melchi.”

Melchior wrapped an arm around him. “I'm in it for you too Mo.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! It's over! The first chapter of the next one will be up somewhere between a week and a month from now. The working title: Valentine's Day. Get excited for platonic Helchior, cute Marthea, and lots and lots of aggressively cute/hot Hernst (it's what I do best).  
> I actually really liked this writing format (the unconnected but thematically related chapters) so maybe I'll do something like that again. who knows? I can tell you I already have six more fics in this series planned and I've started three of them. so prepare yourselves
> 
> alright that's enough talking  
> See y'all later


	6. Wendla/Ilse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an excerpt from the third fic in this series, [Have a Good Weekend](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7227046/chapters/16403863) but it is still Ilse and Wendla's first time so here it is if you haven't read it

Wendla woke up to the sound of Ilse humming quietly, the smell of tea brewing, and early morning light streaming into their room. She sat up and stretched, yawning.

“About time,” Ilse teased from an armchair where she was checking her phone. “Good morning sleepy head.”

“I smell tea.” Wendla looked around expectantly, as though a bucket of tea might be floating somewhere in the room, waiting for her.

“Crappy motel tea, but tea,” Ilse said, “It’s by the TV.” 

Wendla looked at Ilse, pleading with her eyes. Ilse laughed and shook her head. Wendla huffed and reluctantly stood up, walking over to the TV and taking a sip of her tea.

Ilse locked her phone and slipped it into her pocket. “Ready for some bad news?”

Wendla sighed and placed her tea back on the table. “I just woke up. Is it really time for bad news already?”

“Unfortunately,” Ilse said. “The concert’s been canceled because the roads are still blocked. No concert, no driving.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Wendla collapsed backwards onto the bed. “Of course. We plan an epic date and we miss it because of the FUCKING SNOW.” She turned over onto her stomach, her face buried in the pillows. 

Laughing at her girlfriend’s theatrics, Ilse walked over to the bed and put her hand between Wendla’s shoulder blades. “Wendla?” Wendla grunted into the pillow. “Wendla Bergmann?”

“What do you want from me?” Her voice was muffled in the pillow, but her dissatisfaction at missing the concert was not.

“We can still have a great date,” Ilse said soothingly, running her fingers through Wendla’s hair, playing with the brown curls while her girlfriend pouted. “Just think about it: a whole day where we don’t have to do anything or go anywhere.”

“I want to go back to sleep,” Wendla muttered.

Ilse stared at Wendla, clearly not amused by that idea. “Um, no. We’re going to take advantage of the fact that no one in this hotel knows us.”

Wendla sat up and looked at Ilse. “Are we gonna prank people?”

“No,” Ilse laughed, “I was thinking something a little more private.”

“Oh,” Wendla said, nodding and only half-kidding, “You want to fuck really loudly.”

Ilse’s level tone was completely at odds with the furious red blush covering her face and neck. “Well you’re usually pretty loud anyway––”

Wendla hit her with a pillow and a shout of, “Am not!”

“Please! That time we played Seven Minutes in Heaven at Melchior’s house he asked me if I had been fucking you because you were moaning so loudly.” Ilse smiled at her pouting girlfriend.

“That did not happen.”

“Did so,” Ilse said, aware of how much the two of them sounded like petulant children, “Ask him if you don’t believe me.” She paused, slowly moving one of her hands to rest on one of Wendla’s knees. “I think he was jealous,” she whispered conspiratorially, “I think he wishes you’d been that loud for him.”

“Is it really that bad?” Wendla asked so quietly Ilse almost missed the question. 

“Well, I think it’s really hot,” Ilse said, her hand slowly inching up Wendla’s thigh. “So don’t stop on my account. 

“I think you’re really hot,” Wendla countered.

“Funny, because I think you’re really hot,” Ilse responded, leaning in closer.

“Oh shut up,” Wendla said, laying down and pulling her girlfriend on top of her. Their lips collided and Wendla wrapped her arms around Ilse’s head. “Wait,” she said, pulling back slightly, “I have morning breath.”

Ilse looked at Wendla like she’d grown a second head. “You can’t  _ imagine _ how few shits I give about your breath right now.”

“Actually, I can,” Wendla said, pulling Ilse’s hands under her nightgown. 

“You're wearing so little,” Ilse groaned into Wendla’s neck. 

“Isn't that a good thing?” Wendla asked, hands tangled in Ilse’s hair. “There's so little separating us.”

Ilse grinded gently into Wendla’s leg. “Usually, yeah. But today it's just unfair because I'm overdressed.”

Wendla flipped them over, her legs on either side of Ilse’s waist. “We’ll just have to fix that then.” She quickly pulled off Ilse’s sweater as she painted her neck and collar with red and purple kisses. 

“I'm so glad you're not a pillow princess,” Ilse whispered, her hand combing through Wendla’s hair.

“What does that mean?” Wendla asked into Ilse’s neck, tugging at her shirt. 

“I was kind of scared when we started dating that you'd be a pillow princess–like the type of girl who is always lying face up on the bottom and never does anything.” Ilse's shirt came over her face as Wendla yanked it off her. 

“Well, you're welcome.” Wendla bit at Ilse’s chest, teasing toward her nipples. 

“I'm not going to be able to wear anything low cut,” Ilse whined. 

“It's January babe. You shouldn't be wearing anything low cut anyways. Unless it's in private with me.” Wendla pulled Ilse's leggings down, grabbing her ass as she passed it and throwing the leggings onto the ground. Ilse stroked Wendla's thighs, fingers creeping towards the edge of her underwear. Wendla gently reached around, nails trailing softly on Ilse’s rib cage. 

“What about when we go to dances?”

Wendla laughed. “We already have dresses for the dances and they're not low cut. Relax babe.” She unclasped Ilse’s bra and pulled it off her arms. 

“We’re uneven again.”

“Huh?”

“I'm just in my underwear, but you've got your nightgown.”

“Well, fix it.” Wendla put her arms up, and Ilse pushed her nightgown off, giggling at the way the light hit the silky fabric before the dress hit the floor. Ilse stroked one of Wendla’s curls and smiled up at her. 

“You’re beautiful. I love you.”

Wendla smiled, hands caressing Ilse’s soft midriff skin. “You’re beautiful too and I love you too.” Her fingers slid up and spread around Ilse’s breasts. “You’re amazing.” She kissed her forehead. “Talented.” She kissed her nose. “Cute.” Her cheeks. “Sexy.” The top of her breast. “Mine.” Wendla pulled Ilse into a deep kiss, lips and tongues moving fast, each coating the other in saliva. Ilse pulled Wendla closer, their bodies coming almost completely into contact. Ilse rolled her hips up into Wendla’s as Wendla squeezed Ilse’s breasts, slowly massaging them together. Wendla leaned back, watching Ilse’s face as the the other girl groaned in delight. She admired her girlfriend for a few moments before a look of confusion spread across her face from her eyebrows to her mouth. Ilse peered up at her.

“What’s wrong?” Ilse stroked her arm, soothing and encouraging.

“I don’t know what to do next,” Wendla admitted, face turning pink as she looked at her feet.

“I can be on top if that would be better for you,” Ilse suggested, and Wendla nodded, gently flipping them over. “You have to tell me whether or not you like things. We’ve never done this, so I’m as lost as you, okay? You have to say, ‘I like that,’ or, ‘Don’t do that,’ okay?”

“What about, ‘Fuck, Ilse, yes!’? Is that acceptable?” Wendla smirked up at Ilse.

“Absolutely.” Ilse rolled their hips together slowly, hands teasing gently from Wendla’s cheeks to the band of her underwear, then up from her knees to the inside of her thighs. She grinned at Wendla, who smiled dazedly back. “What do you want babe?”

“I don’t know… just….” Unable to complete her sentence, Wendla rolled her hips up into Ilse’s, incapable of phrasing her desires.

Ilse smiled and leaned forward, capturing Wendla in a sweet kiss before she whispered, “Don’t worry. I’m going to make it good for you babe.” She trailed her mouth down Wendla’s neck and across her chest. Ilse kissed Wendla’s nipple lightly before sucking it into her mouth. Wendla let out a breathy exhale, hands on Ilse’s shoulders clenching slightly. Ilse bit and kissed and sucked at Wendla’s chest, her hands wrapping around her girlfriend’s breasts and massaging them gently as her mouth continued its descent. “You’re so sexy Wendla. All of you. You’re so gorgeous.” She moved Wendla’s legs slightly so she was resting between them, grinding gently into the mattress as she left purple marks across Wendla’s torso. Wendla’s breathing was speeding up, every mark causing her to take a sharp gasp. Ilse’s hands tugged at Wendla’s skin as she pulled them downwards. 

When Ilse hooked her thumbs in Wendla’s underwear, Wendla made a loud noise that sounded halfway between a groan and a gasp. Ilse looked up, her head level with her girlfriend’s navel. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…. Yes, I’m alright. I’m ready if you want to do anything else.”

Ilse smiled wickedly and pulled down Wendla’s underwear, sliding them gently off her legs. “Get ready babe. I’m going to make you feel great.” She gently massaged the newly exposed area before using one finger to search for Wendla’s clitoris. Wendla moaned the loudest Ilse had ever heard her, and Ilse knew she had found her mark. She rubbed her pointer finger solidly on the spot and Wendla’s head tipped back, moans spilling freely out of her mouth now. “You like that Wendla?”

“Uh-huh,” Wendla exhaled. Smirking, Ilse bent forward, her nose brushing gently through Wendla’s dark pubic curls before her tongue took the place of her finger, twirling Wendla’s clitoris lightly with her tongue. After hearing Wendla’s renewed moans, Ilse slipped the tip of her tongue into Wendla gently. “Fuck Ilse.”

“Good fuck or bad fuck?” Ilse said, the vibrations running through Wendla’s hips.

“Good,” Wendla breathed. Ilse curled her tongue towards Wendla’s stomach, rubbing her clitoris with her hand at the same time. Wendla moaned loudly, breathing fast and skin flushed. “Fuck, fuck, Ilse!” she almost screamed, hips lifting off the mattress. Wendla’s heart was racing and she felt something building inside of her, like she was climbing a mountain and would soon crest over it. Ilse twisted her tongue and pressed hard with her fingers at the same time and Wendla moaned loudly as her orgasm rocked through every muscle in her body. Ilse sat up and smiled at her girlfriend.

“Good?”

Wendla looked at Ilse like she was crazy. “Amazing, smartass.” Ilse laid down on the mattress next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and Wendla looked up at her. “Now what can I do for you?”

“You don’t––”

“Don’t be silly. Here.” Wendla climbed on top of Ilse, pulling her girlfriend’s underwear down and clumsily massaging her clitoris. “Sorry I’m not good at this.”

“Now you’re being silly. I love you and I will enjoy this no matter how ‘good’ you are at it.”

Wendla’s hand movement was jerky and light as she asked, “Well how can I be better?”

Ilse was quiet before she asked, “Do you masturbate Wendla?”

She turned red as she shook her head. “I never…. I was always… I just don’t.”

Ilse nodded. “Okay, here. Let me help.” Ilse placed her own hand over Wendla’s and guided her until she figured out the rhythm and Ilse released her to lean back on the mattress, head tilted upwards. 

“You’re so gorgeous Ils. I love seeing you like this, all flushed and laid out for me. All mine. My beautiful girl, desperate for my touch. God, it’s so hot.” Ilse groaned at Wendla’s words, pleasure sweeping over her slowly until her orgasm crashed like a wave. She kissed her girlfriend gently before Wendla rolled off of her. 

“Sorry,” Wendla whispered.

“For what?”

“That stuff I said. It was…”

“It was hot. I liked it.” Ilse smiled at her and Wendla pulled the sheets up over herself. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting under the sheets,” Wendla said, not making eye contact with her girlfriend.

“But why?” Ilse turned onto her side and rubbed her hand on Wendla’s side, obscured by the white hotel sheets.

“It’s comfy.” At Ilse’s pointed staring, Wendla said, “I don’t like being naked.” 

“Why not?”

“I never feel pretty.”

Ilse stared at her girlfriend. “You can’t be serious.” When Wendla didn’t reply she said, “Darling, you’re so sexy I can’t believe it most of the time.”

Wendla shook her head. “Not me, you. You’re all skinny and toned and perfect.” She refused to make eye contact with Ilse, who still was in a state of total disbelief.

“Skinny is overrated. You have an amazing body, and I love all of it.” Gently, she pulled the sheet off Wendla and dragged her fingers over Wendla’s skin. “Your beautiful face, your neck, your arms, your amazing boobs,” –both girls gasped as Ilse cupped Wendla’s breasts– “your waist, your hips, your thighs, your ass.” Wendla gasped again as Ilse grabbed her butt gently. “It’s all beautiful, it’s all you, and you’re all beautiful.”

“I feel big,” Wendla whispered.

“Sometimes, bigger  _ is _ better.” Ilse smiled and both girls dissolved into a fit of laughter.


	7. Anna/Otto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpted from [Happy Valentine's Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8527666)

Otto knocked on Anna’s door at exactly two and the door flew open. “Oh good, you’re here. I was worried you wouldn’t show. Come in.” Otto stepped in and Anna shut the door as he took off his shoes. “Do you need water or something?” Otto shook his head and Anna said, “Great. Come with me.” He followed her to her bedroom, where she collapsed on the bed.

“What exactly am I doing here?” Otto asked, leaning on her doorframe.

“Well, as you’ve probably noticed, everyone in our friend group except Georg has either had sex with someone or is in the position to have sex with someone in the near future–”

“Martha?”

Anna laughed. “Have you  _ seen _ Martha? She’s so hot and quiet, you know she banged someone on the dl. Anyway, I’m sick of my virginity. I don’t drink, so I don’t get invited to parties, but I’m as horny as the next teenager. So, if you’re into it, which I think you are, I want you to fuck me. Then we can both not be virgins anymore.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“So long as we don’t let this make anything weird,” Otto said, already throwing his shirt over his head. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Otto. You’ll still be my weird best friend who won’t admit he’s into his bro,” Anna said, taking off her shorts.

“I’m straight, Anna,” Otto said, taking off his shorts and standing awkwardly in his boxers.

“Whatever man,” Anna laughed, throwing off her dress, “As long as your dick works, I don’t really care.” Otto looked at her, the first girl he’d seen in underwear. “Well? Come here.”

Otto sat down next to Anna, and she pulled his hands around to the clasp of her bra. He fumbled before unclipping it, sliding it off her body before cupping and massaging her breasts. Anna groaned, tilting her head back, and traced her hands down the front of Otto’s chest, hooking her fingers in his boxers. Otto ran his hands down to her underwear, and they tried to pull the other’s underwear off until they had to move apart. For a minute, Otto just looked at Anna, his best friend, the first girl he had seen naked.

“C’mon, Otto, we don’t have all day. There are condoms on my table.”

He reached over and grabbed a condom before settling himself in between Anna’s legs. Anna reached forward, grabbing Otto’s cock and stroking gently. “Nice,” she whispered.

Otto laughed and massaged one of her breasts. “You too.” He opened the condom and rolled into onto himself, before pressing into Anna slowly. Anna took a sharp intake of breath and Otto whispered, “Are you okay?” Anna nodded, wrapping her legs around Otto’s waist. When he was all the way in, Otto whispered, “What do I do?”

Anna laughed quietly. “I think it’s self explanatory.”

“I mean to get you off.”

“Otto, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said firmly. Anna took his hand and gently guided it to her clitoris. “Just press and make small circles.”

Otto started circling his finger. “Like that?” Anna nodded, gasping, and he began to slowly rock his hips. “Are you okay?”

“Fantastic,” Anna whispered. For a while neither of them spoke, Otto’s pace gradually increasing and Anna’s breathing becoming heavier. “I’m close, Otto.”

A few moments later, Otto felt Anna’s walls get tighter and realized that she was coming only seconds before he came too. He pulled out and collapsed on the mattress next to her, sweaty but triumphant. He had made a girl, Anna, his best friend, come on his first try. He grabbed a tissue out of the box on Anna’s table and wrapped the condom in it before chucking the tissue in the garbage.

“Thanks, Otto,” Anna said softly a moment later, “You should probably get home. My dad will be home soon.”

“Bu–yeah. Yeah, of course.” Otto dressed quickly and left, feeling like he had forgotten something.


	8. Ernst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also excerpted from [Valentine's Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8527666)

“Relax, Hänschen,” Ernst whispered.

“Hey, that’s my line,” Hänschen laughed back. He was sitting on the edge of Ernst’s bed in his boxers, heart racing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve done this a hundred times. I’ve been doing this since eighth grade. I fucked half the senior class last year.” He ran his hands over his face. “I lied. I know exactly what’s wrong with me.” He looked over at Ernst, who was watching him with big brown eyes, a look of sweet caring completely in contrast with the bulge and wet spot that were clearly visible on his boxers. “I love you, Ernst. I really don’t want to fuck this up or hurt you.” 

Ernst laughed. “I love you, too, Hänschen. You won’t fuck this up, I promise. I’ve been imagining this since eighth grade, so I’m pretty sure this is going to be amazing no matter what. Plus,” he blushed and his voice dropped to a whisper, “Can I tell you a secret?” Hänschen nodded and Ernst said, “I’ve been fingering myself. For like a week. I was pretty sure I wanted to bottom, but I had to be certain, so…” He shrugged and Hänschen smiled.

“That’s a nice image,” Hänschen said, turning to Ernst, “A really nice image.” He tackled Ernst to the bed and kissed him thoroughly. “Did you imagine it was me? My fingers up your ass? My cock? My hand wrapped around your dick, stroking you so fast it feels like you’ll explode.”

Ernst moaned before he whispered, “I’ve been imagining it was you for three years. I’m ready for you, Hänschen Rilow.”

Hänschen groaned, pulling at Ernst’s boxers frantically. “I’m not nervous anymore.” He practically ripped off Ernst’s boxers and threw his own across the room. He leaned forward, kissing Ernst hard as he rutted against him, their cocks sliding against each other.

“Hänschen,” Ernst whispered breathlessly, pulling away, “stop.”

Hänschen stopped moving immediately and sat up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ernst laughed, “I just didn’t want to come before we got to tonight’s main activity. I think I’m ready.” 

Hänschen kissed Ernst and leaned over him, grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom out of Ernst’s bedside table drawer. “I’m going to make this so good for you, Ernie. I love you.” He rubbed lube into his fingers before gently circling Ernst’s rim and pushing his finger tip in, slowly pushing his whole finger into Ernst’s body. Ernst released a breath, and Hänschen pulled out his finger, only to replace it with two that moved slowly, scissoring and stroking, clearly searching. 

“Fuck!” Ernst cried, “Is that it?”

“Yes, Ernst, that is your prostate,” Hänschen said with a smug grin as he pressed it again and watched Ernst’s body arch and spasm with electric pleasure.

“I’m ready, Hänschen,” Ernst panted, “Please.”

“One more finger,” Hänschen said.

Ernst shook his head. “I want to feel it.”

“No,” Hänschen said, “Absolutely not. Not this time. It hurts more than you think. Some other time, I promise. I just want you to have a perfect first time.”

Ernst nodded as Hänschen pushed a third finger in. It was considerably harder to get past Ernst’s rim, and Hänschen was glad he hadn’t given in to Ernst’s request. 

“Are you ready?” Hänschen asked. Ernst leaned forward, kissing Hänschen as he rolled a condom over his boyfriend’s dick.

“Absolutely.”

Hänschen poured more lube onto his hands and rubbed it onto his cock before he slowly pushed into Ernst. He moved excruciatingly slowly, but Hänschen didn’t want to hurt Ernst under any circumstances. When he was all the way in, Hänschen kissed Ernst. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me,” Ernst whispered, wrapping his legs around Hänschen’s waist and his arms around Hänschen’s neck. 

Hänschen thrust slowly, picking up the pace as he saw discomfort fade out of Ernst’s face. “Fuck, Ernst. You’re perfect. You’re made for this, aren’t you? Perfect little bottom with your perfect ass.”

“Only for you, Hänschen. Perfect bottom for you.”

Hänschen groaned and propped himself on one arm, stroking Ernst with his other hand. “C’mon Ernst. You’re so beautiful and amazing and I can’t believe you’ve agreed to be mine. I’m the luckiest man on Earth. And your ass is perfection. So do it, Ernst.” Hänschen leaned even further forward to whisper into Ernst’s ear, “Come for me.”

With gasp of, “Hänschen,” Ernst came over his stomach and Hänschen’s hand. He took a deep breath and said, “Don’t you even think of stopping until you come. I want to see your face when you come inside me.” Ernst watched with rapt attention as Hänschen thrust into him slightly faster. “Is that all you got?”

Hänschen looked up at Ernst, who was slightly taken aback by the wild look in his boyfriend’s eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ernst.”

“You never could,” Ernst whispered, “I love you.”

Hänschen thrust forward and kissed Ernst as he came. “I love you,” he whispered, pulling out gently and tossing the condom into Ernst’s garbage can. He pulled Ernst’s back against his chest and wrapped his arms around him. “I meant everything I said, you know. I’m not just saying it to get in your pants or something. I care about you.”

“Everything, including, ‘You’re made for this?’” Ernst laughed. “I know it’s not just a line.”

Hänschen shrugged. “There have been rumors that I’m just doing this to get in your pants because you’re hot and sweet and I’m just going to drop you when it gets to be too much.”

Ernst clicked his tongue and turned over. “Don’t let those morons get to you, Hänsi. I know you better than that.” He kissed Hänschen gently. “I have a present for you.”

“You mean, you’re giving me more than your virginity?” Ernst glared and Hänschen laughed. “I’m kidding. Virginity is a social construct. What do you have?”

Ernst got up and walked over to his desk and pulled out a paper that he handed to Hänschen. Hänschen stared at it, mesmerized.

“Me?”

Ernst nodded, “You.”

“Naked,” Hänschen added.

“Yes.”

Hänschen took in every detail, every pencil line, even the way Ernst had hidden his signature in the shadows. “When did you draw this?”

“Sometimes when you sleep over and I can’t sleep I draw it. But mostly from memory. I’ve been dreaming about this for years, Hänschen, and now I have experience to make it accurate.” 

Hänschen set the drawing down carefully on the bedside table. “I love it. I love you.” He patted the empty space next to him. “Come to bed.”

Ernst sighed. “I’m exhausted. I can’t go another round, babe.”

Hänschen laughed. “I meant to sleep. I mean, now that I’ve experienced the glory of your ass, we’re going to be steaming up your bedroom windows even more frequently than we were. But right now, I just want to hold you.”

Ernst curled up in front of Hänschen, and Hänschen pulled the covers over them. “I love you, Hänschen Rilow.”

“I love you, Ernst Robel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Contact me on [tumblr](hopingforaword.tumblr.com) with prompts/ideas/comments. Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, if you really like my work you can "buy me a coffee" [here](http://ko-fi.com/hopingforaword). I'm heading into college next year (and college is notoriously expensive), so having any amount of spending money is good, plus supporting artists is cool.


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